


Fire In Your Eyes

by JennLynn77



Series: Right As Rain [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Married Sex, Sexual Dysfunction, Upset John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77





	Fire In Your Eyes

**Fire In Your Eyes**

**29th, January 2027**

  
There were light blue candles lit on their night tables and across the room on their dressing table. The reflection of the flames refracted around the room by the glass door of their bathroom. Sherlock was on his back, his legs around John’s hips. John had been frantically thrusting a moment ago, but now he was lying on Sherlock’s chest and belly, shaking his head in frustration.

“John, It’s okay. I understand. This has nothing to do with how you feel about me or what we’re doing.”

“It makes me feel like shit, Sherlock. This is not okay. My cock is inside you and it’s as soft as that pillow under your head.”

“I know you feel bad, I just want you to know that you shouldn’t. It’s the Lexapro talking, not you.”

“That medication is going to ruin our sex life. I’ve very much liked our sex life until I started taking it.”

“It’s most likely a temporary symptom. A lot of them go away after a few weeks of taking it.”

“I’m a doctor, Sherlock. I know all that. But sometimes, the symptoms don’t go away. They’re there for the duration someone takes it. You either learn to live with it, or get on the antidepressants carousel and try and find a med that works for you, while also not having life-changing side effects.”

“Is there something else bothering you?” Sherlock got his elbows under him and tilted his head.

  
“We met ten years ago today! I wanted to share the celebration of that with you tonight! I just want to make you feel good, and I can’t do that right now!!!” John yelled. “I’m angry, Sherlock! I’m really fucking angry! I don’t understand it. I used to be a doctor, a healer. I used to be a soldier, working for Queen and Country. And even when that went to shit, I ended up here. I have a beautiful life. A perfect, loving, man who happens to be a gorgeous genius. I have a beautiful, smart, caring, and kind little girl, who I love more than just about anything in the world. I have an amazing job, I get to help people find out the truth about things that happened to themselves or someone they love. I get to put shitty people in prison. So why is it, that I go to sleep some nights, and have dreams about blood on sand? Dreams about my wife dying. Dreams about vacant, pale eyes, staring up at a blue sky. Why is it that I’m reduced to taking a pill every day to help me appreciate how great my life is?

“And now? Right now I’m trying to make love to my husband because I love him and want to make him feel how much I love him. Because words don’t do it for him. He needs to be shown. This was the best way for me to do that, and now I can’t even do that anymore.”

“Firstly, the medication is to help a chemical imbalance that’s been exacerbated by trauma you’ve experienced. Please stop dismissing yourself as weak. It took more strength of will and character to tell Ella about how you were feeling at your last appointment. Secondly, I always feel loved when I’m with you. Your penis is usually irrelevant in most cases we’re in each other’s company.”

“But when it’s the main focus, it's fantastic if it would do what it’s supposed to do! Sometimes, Sherlock, I think that one day, and most likely sooner than I’d like, you’ll realise you can do better than me. You’ll see that this broken man isn’t worthy of you. And you’ll pack your things and leave me behind, and live your life with someone who can love you properly. And then I think, if that happens, there’s no point in me hanging around anymore. No one would miss me anyway.”

At that admission, Sherlock scrambled underneath John and sat up.

“Don’t you dare say that! Do not speak about yourself like that, EVER! Especially in my presence! What’s gotten into you? The main focus, when we’re being intimate, IS US! Not your penis or mine, or the things that we do with them. As much as I love intimacy with you, I lived over forty years without it. I can safely say, I can live the next forty without it if it means still having you!”

John’s face crumbled.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. My brain doesn’t feel like my own, my body is betraying me... I’m thinking things that I know I shouldn’t. Things that would get me sectioned if I spoke them to a doctor. But they creep in anyway, no matter what I do. I just love you and don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”

Sherlock gathered John to him and held him, John’s resolve dissolving, and he let himself be held and began to cry against Sherlock’s chest. “Disappoint me? There is nothing you could possibly do that would disappoint me. I know what kind of man you are, John. You’re the most tenacious man I know. You will come through the other side of this an even better version of yourself. You’re not alone. You are loved. Please don’t give up.”

They held each other for a few minutes in the center of their bed, naked and sweaty. And they were so very much in love.

“I don’t deserve you. I hope you never realise it. I hope you’re stupid about this relationship for the rest of my life!”

Sherlock laughed. He pulled John away from his chest and leaned back, hands on John’s shoulders, searching John’s face. They locked eyes and Sherlock held his gaze. A flame from a nearby candle reflected in Sherlock’s irises.

“We will try as many antidepressants as it takes to find the one that makes you feel the best. And I will be right here with you on that journey.”

“Your eyes. They’re reflecting one of the candles. You have fire in your eyes.”

“Thankfully, not literally.”

John laughed, but there wasn’t much mirth in it.

Sherlock's grip tightened on John’s shoulders. “That is reinforcing how I actually feel. I have you back in this. As I do in all things. Right by your side. Holding your hand. I’ll help to hold you up, John. Literally and figuratively. If you’ll let me.”

“I’m not very good at accepting help, but you’ve made me better at that. I promise to let you help me.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“As long as you’re holding me, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re catching on.”

They embraced again, and Sherlock held John until he fell asleep.


End file.
